


In Grief We Come Together

by Unquiet_Words



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Relationship, Rating May Change, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 07:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17219333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unquiet_Words/pseuds/Unquiet_Words
Summary: "Sometimes, death can bring the living together, and death can cause the living to find solace in one another. In this way, death is a part of life, and those who die can in fact give gifts to the living, gifts that they were not able to give while they were still alive and well.” - C. JoyBell C.





	In Grief We Come Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yetanotherauthor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yetanotherauthor/gifts).



> Farewell, 2018.  
> Hello, 2019, which I am hereby dubbing the year of HashiTobi.  
> *pats them on the head* Be free, my children.

His phone had been ringing nonstop.

Work had been unbearably slow all day, though he knew it was mostly his own fault. Working ahead of schedule would do that, his paperwork filed and completed weeks in advance of any outside deadline, a habit he’d picked up during his college years when time had to be rationed carefully for him to have any semblance of sanity. All they needed now was a second set of eyes to comb over the numbers. Not a necessary practice, but one he refused to budge on.

With Kagami gone for the day, that would have to wait. He tapped his pen against his desk, ignoring the constant buzzing the best he could while he looked over his schedule for the upcoming week. It would be a tough one, what with his assistant taking off around one every afternoon - Kagami might have only asked for a few weeks leave when his wife gave birth, but Tobirama knew he needed more time than that. Sending him home early might not fix his new-found parental struggles, but it wasn’t like he could do much else.

The constant vibration was vexing. Even trying to make sense of his schedule proved nearly impossible, the dates and names having no meaning with his mind muddled so, distracted by the rattle in his coat pocket.

He had a suspicion on who it was, though knowing only made it worse. Thinking of that name lighting up his screen had his throat tight, heart beating almost painfully in his chest, eyes flickering towards the coat draped over the back of his chair.

The temptation to check proved too great for him. He fished his phone out between calls, checking his notifications. Ten voice-mails and counting. Even more missed calls, all from the same number. He’d never left that many before; usually, there was at least a week or two between his calls. His thumb hovered over the screen, tempted to unlock it. Maybe checking wouldn’t be a bad idea…?

He took a deep breath, placing it face down on his desk. Kagami might not be here, but making a habit of listening to that voice in public was a bad idea. He would listen to them later, at home, like always.

By the time three rolled around, the phone calls had stopped. But even in the quiet his focus wouldn’t return, nerves too frazzled and his scalp hurting from tugging at his hair, trying in vain to pull the motivation back.

He gave up with a slump, taking a minute to glare at the unfinished report in front of him. At this rate, staying any longer would be a waste of electricity with how utterly fruitless the last few hours had been. Leaving early hadn’t been his original intention, but no amount of cursing himself seemed to be working.

Fall was fading into winter, the biting chill scraping against his cheeks as he stepped outside, nodding at the security guard as he passed. His scarf helped, though the wool irritated his skin, neck itching already as he wrapped it tighter. It had been a thoughtful if painful gift, one of the only things he’d held onto from that time in his life. That his wife had made it by hand only made it worse, made it a bittersweet reminder of what he could never have.

He pushed his sunglasses up his nose, balling up those emotions and placing them on the mental shelf labeled ‘Do Not Disturb’ with all the rest he associated with his brother.

Walking home might not have been the best idea with the weather turning so sour, but most mornings the thought of driving left a bad taste in his mouth. The car park filled up too quickly, and leaving his car at home only meant an extra half hour round trip in the end. He only really bothered in the summer, when he couldn’t handle the heat or the harsh sunlight blinding him and leaving his skin raw.

Besides, walking meant having easy access to his guilty pleasure every morning. And now, apparently. He stopped outside of the local coffee shop, eyeing the display of fresh baked sweets and bread. The blueberry scones were calling to him. Only a few people were in the shop, the line practically nonexistent with the city still at work. Having one as an afternoon treat wouldn’t hurt him, really. Besides, the one he’d had for breakfast had been rather small.

Convincing himself to get one took about as long as usual, but he was interrupted before he managed to step inside, hand moving to his phone without thought. He caught himself in time, frowning down at his pocket, moving away from the door to not block the way.

He should ignore it. It would just be him again, like it had been all day. No one else had any reason to be calling him at such a time. Though the gods only knew what had come over his brother, causing him to possess his phone and bother him all day.

But ignoring him at work was one thing. He shuffled his feet, stepping off the sidewalk as he pulled out his phone even as he cursed his own weak heart.

It wasn’t Hashirama.

As soon as that registered, he answered, skipping right over pleasantries in his confusion. Itama had no good reason to be calling him at such a time. “What is it?”

_“Look, I still don’t know what happened between you and Aniki, and honestly I don’t care. Now’s not the time to be playing distant little brother with him and you know it.”_

The sharp tone had his eyes wide. Never in his life had he heard Itama speak in such a fashion, let alone with one of his brothers. He had always been the most soft spoken of the siblings.

Something was wrong.

“Itama, what happened?”

 _“What happ- have you not checked your voice-mail?”_ He sounded less aggravated and more baffled now, though that did little to keep his mind from racing.

“No, I had work, what happened?”

_“Mito was in an accident.”_

Hashirama had been calling him all day. Realization had guilt rising like bile in his throat, rushing around the corner before he had fully processed those words. Their parents lived a plane flight away, and Itama had been overseas in his studies for the past year. He was the only one out of their family that lived anywhere near the eldest brother.

_And he had been ignoring him all day._

“Which hospital are they at?” There were a few he could think of, though they were all at least a half hour drive away. He was almost jogging now, fishing for his car key as he went.

When Itama didn’t answer him, he checked to make sure the call hadn’t dropped before asking again. “Itama, which hospital?”

_“She didn’t make it. They sent him home.”_

It took all of Tobirama’s willpower not to vomit on the spot, though he couldn’t help the stutter in his steps.

His brother had been trying to contact him all day. He’d been at the hospital, no doubt by himself, while Mito had been in the ER.

He’d been alone when his wife passed, and Tobirama could have been there for him.

Itama continued to speak to him, though the words had little meaning, phone pressed to his ear but his mind elsewhere. He’d never been to Hashirama’s house, but he knew the way there. He wouldn’t let him go through this alone.

The phone was already in his pocket by the time he realized he’d hung up without warning. But apologies would have to wait for later. He jogged the rest of the way home, tossing his briefcase into the backseat of his car before pulling out of his spot.

Just under an hour later, he was staring at the front of his brother’s house, his stomach churning at the idea of knocking on that front door. Breathing wasn’t helping calm his nerves, but his own reservations could be dealt with later.

At least the door wasn’t locked. Maybe it was rude to enter without permission, but small details like that didn’t matter to him at the moment. His mind never worked right when Hashirama was involved, and especially when his brother needed him.

Hashirama didn’t even react when he entered the room. He had curled himself around his knees, seated on the sofa as he stared blankly at the empty fireplace, not so much as twitching from his spot.

It was the first time Tobirama had seen him in years, and he looked awful. Cheeks puffy and raw, eyes bloodshot, hair tangled and an absolute mess - it must have grown at least a whole foot since the last time he’d seen him, though there was no real way of telling with it knotted so.

He hadn’t really thought this through. Comforting people wasn’t something that came naturally to him; it was Hashirama who had soothed his brothers after their nightmares, cooing and petting their hair when their youngest sibling had passed, hiding his own sniffling well enough that it had taken years to realize he’d mourned on his own.

Everyone looked at him and assumed him a fool. In many ways, he was. But he’d always been the strongest out of them.

Seeing him so broken was wrong. It was an affront to nature. One he didn’t know how to fix.

If he remembered correctly, his brother liked tea. Tobirama wandered off towards where he thought the kitchen might be, scowling at himself even as he searched the cabinets.

Tea. His brother’s wife had just passed, and all he could think to do was make _tea_. Gods, he hoped Itama could come to the funeral. Maybe stay a few days until the initial shock of the situation passed.

He frowned down at the electric kettle, pressing the tab down before looking for a decent sized mug. Who was responsible for making funeral arrangements anyway? Their parents were still alive, and he’d never been married himself - death wasn’t entirely new to him, but he’d been only a child when Kawarama had slipped off their back porch.

Good thing his phone wasn’t out of data. He’d have to look into all of that, and he was positive Hashirama was in no state to give him the wifi password.

With his weak attempt at comfort done steeping (with two sugars, a touch of milk added, just the way he remembered his brother taking it all throughout their childhood), he made his way back to the living room. His brother hadn’t moved an inch since he’d left him, still hunched in on himself, though a bit more moisture seemed to have leaked down his face.

Not knowing what else to do, Tobirama pressed the mug into his hands, thankful whenever his brother didn’t spill it all over himself.

He didn’t move to drink it, didn’t even look at it.

Looming over him probably wasn’t helping. Tobirama wandered off again, this time checking the doors down the hall until he found the bathroom. There were two hairbrushes on the counter, reminding him of the rats nest on his brother’s head. He carefully avoided the one with red hair in it, grabbing and wetting a washcloth as well.

Still no movement. He crouched down in front of his brother, making sure to be gentle as he wiped the salt from his face. Really, he wasn’t even sure it would help anything. It didn’t make him look any better. He tossed the rag onto the table, pulling his brother’s hair back as he settled in behind him, holding it above where he brushed and starting at the tips. At least his own years with being forced to have long hair did some good for him in the end.

Part of him knew, even as he worked the bamboo brush through the tangled knots, that he shouldn’t be there. Part of him wanted to leave, couldn’t stand the thought of putting himself through this all over again, knew it would only cause him more pain.

But another part of him already knew it was too late. He could never leave Hashirama to deal with this alone, no matter the personal cost, no matter the heartache he felt just being near him again.

By the time there were no more snags in his hair, the tea had gotten cold. Tobirama took it from him and placed it to the side, coaxing his brother to lay down and rest his eyes. He used the blanket folded on the back of the sofa to keep him warm, planning to spend the next few hours researching and sipping on some coffee to help soothe his nerves.

At least this time he had experience hiding his feelings. Near decades of it. It might not make it any easier to be around his brother, but the fear of being discovered wouldn’t be tinting their every interaction like it had throughout his childhood.

The only thing he had to fear now was the inevitable phone call to their parents. He rubbed at one temple, propping one elbow on the wood table to support his head. Even confessing his incestuous love for his brother seemed easier than any conversation with Butsuma. With any luck, he could pawn that duty off on someone else.

For now, it seemed he had some phone calls to make. Better to get the sensitive discussions out of the way before Hashirama woke back up and overheard him talking about his late-wife. It might have to be done, but it didn’t mean he needed such a harsh reminder so soon.


End file.
